


One thing . . . leads to another

by nimrod262



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: BSAA, Bookshop, M/M, Nivanfield, One Thing, Paperwork, Partnership, Piers’ entry trial for Alpha., Rolyn, Unspoken Love, Video inspired by song, Writing inspired by video, admin, angst then fluff, meeting place, one direction - Freeform, sad then happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25443085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrod262/pseuds/nimrod262
Summary: This little tale was inspired by a lovely little video clip made by @aaapuppypi on tumblr.  They’d made the video having been inspired in turn by One Direction’s song, 'One Thing'.  I just wanted to put some words around the delightful images.  Many thanks ‘Rolyn’.It’s funny how people see the same thing differently and Chris and Piers are no exception here.First we have Chris’ point of view, followed by Piers’.I’m having problems getting the video posted here, you can view at https://va.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_qdr3r5dBuu1y8ulgt.mp4
Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield
Kudos: 14





	One thing . . . leads to another

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Chris was easy, he’s the sad, buttoned up Captain here. In love, but afraid to speak out. Piers was harder to write. Equally in love, but silently waiting for a sign.

**First, we have Chris’ point of view:**

His angel-soft tread outside alerts me first. Then his scent, cinnamon and spice. Woody, like fresh cut pine. And finally, his movement. Graceful. Almost feline. Perfect.

I look up from my desk when he enters our office, but we don't acknowledge one another. I'm trying to play it cool, but I can't stop my sad eyes lighting up with a brief, unguarded spark of vitality that's normally missing. Too many missions, too many memories, too many good men and women I've loved in one way or another, lost from my BSAA family. Why add another? Or is that my current excuse to do nothing, say nothing?

He's standing in front of his own desk now. It's neat and tidy, just like him. Straight backed and poised. Perfect. He must have sensed me staring at him, because he turns his head toward me, one eyebrow cocked. It's hard to fool my Ace sniper. Easier to fool myself. I start to blush, guilty at being caught, guilty for my thoughts. I close my eyes to shut out his vision and my imaginings. Heaven and hell.

How long's it been going on like this? Two years? He's been living in my head, walking through my dreams, haunting my nightmares. I have plenty of both. What I don't have is courage. The courage to articulate my thoughts. If I speak them out loud, it might break the dream, make the nightmare worse. So I blush and close my sad eyes . . . and die a little more inside every time.

I was never shot down in my career with the US Air Force. Not in a plane anyway. Been brought down to earth by a few commanding officers, but that's another story. But Piers Nivans got through all my defenses. He shot me out of the sky at our first meeting, and left me crashed and burning. And here I am, two years later, still a smoldering wreck.

It was his during trial for Alpha. Jill and I were assessing his skills on the rifle range.

"He's very good." she said to me, adding up his scores.

"Yeah." I replied, smiling to myself. I used to smile back then.

He stood up and pushed back his goggles.

"How'd I do?"

"You're Ok." said Jill, who didn't like to give too much praise to a new recruit.

"You're perfect." I must have said it out loud. I didn't mean too, like I didn't mean to nudge Jill on the elbow as I said it.

"Chris? . . ."

"Huh . . . ?" I mumbled.

". . . You? You and Piers?"

"Wha . . . ?"

She laughed, then slapped my butt. "You go, boy!" I could have died.

I could have died many times in the two years since then. Many good men and women did. The losses would have been even more, but for his shooting, myself included. He told me once he'd dedicated himself to the BSAA, found the cause he'd been looking for, one he couldn't find in the Army. I kinda hoped he'd found it in me too, like I'd found it in him. But I never asked and he never said. And so he stayed in my head, when all I really wanted was for him to be in my arms.

After Marhawa, Piers was hurt bad by Merah's death. It was a lost opportunity. I should have done more for him then, opened up about my own feelings, been more than his Captain. But like a fool, I didn't. Just like I hadn't taken Jills' advice that day on the range. For once I tried to stop being Chris I do what I want Redfield. It was a dumb time to act out of character. Just plain dumb. And lately, it's been getting harder to hide my true feelings. Something's gotta give, and it should be me. I need to make him see how I feel. I need him here with me . . . I need him. And suddenly I'm more afraid than I've ever been.

There's a shop in town, off the main street. It's a bookshop. They serve coffee too. It's the sorta place clever people go and read clever books over expensive latte. I was walking past it one day, head down as usual, when something, someone, bumped into me. Which was strange in itself, people tend to avoid me when I'm out. I looked down as he looked up.

"Piers? What are you doing here?"

"C,Captain? Sorry, I didn't see you."

"My bad, I wasn't looking where I was going . . ."

"Me neither . . ."

"Ha!"

"He, he!"

There was an embarrassing silence. "So? What _are_ you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm going for a coffee."

I looked at the place and frowned. "In a bookshop?"

"Yeah, stimulation for the mind and the body."

"Huh?"

"You know Captain, keep the grey matter ticking over. I read a lot."

"And drink a lot of coffee?"

"Um . . ."

"Don't you get enough stimulation at work?"

"Er, it's a different kind of stimulation."

"How many kinds are there?"

"I,I'm not sure, there's probably a book on it somewhere inside. Would . . . would you like a coffee? We could look for the book together."

"Roger the coffee. Beats knocking people over in the street. Not sure about the book though. I don't read much, most soldiers don't you know."

"That's why I come to this place. Not likely to bump into anyone from the BSAA here."

"Apart from me, today."

"It must be a special day then."

"Special?" It was hard to hide the expectation in my voice.

"A chance to talk I mean. We don't do much of that."

"No." I couldn't argue, it was true.

So we talked, over books and latte. I hadn't realized how much Piers knows. Art, literature, history. I sat in awe, and silence. I learnt more about him that morning than I had in the last two years. And what did he learn about me? That I don't say a lot, and that I prefer my coffee black. It was another lost opportunity. Although I did try a few times afterwards. By just 'happening' to be walking past when he was. I even followed him once. Pathetic! Surrounded by all that knowledge and learning, and I couldn't even tell him how I felt. But oh! How wonderful it was just to sit and listen to him! Our meetings fueled my dreams, but only made the nightmares worse. The nightmares where I lost him, the ones where I told him my true feelings, and he rejected them.

That fear was making me weak, cowardly. If I didn't ask, I wouldn't get hurt. But I _was_ hurting. Every time I looked at him, and he turned to look back at me. Like today, as he stood there, in front of his desk in our office. Poised, And perfect.

I opened my sad eyes. "Piers?" I called out, but he'd gone, And so had another opportunity. Unless . . .

I left the note on his desk. Not some silly love thing, just straight and to the point. Leaving a note may have been cowardly, but writing it was one of the bravest things I've ever done.

_To Piers_

_See you at the same place - - Chris_

He's running late. 'Please, please don't . . . Ah!' I see him, and the relief floods through me. He's hurrying along the street, his breath freezing in the cold morning air. He looks worried, until he catches sight of me, and as soon as he does, his eyes light up and he grins.

"Hello, Captain." he calls out.

"Piers."

And then he's there, standing a foot in front of me. Smiling, expectant, ready to take my lead. Like he's on ops. Like he's always been. Perfect.

I don't want him in my head, I want him in my arms. So what's the problem? And right there, standing outside this little emporium of knowledge, the answer hits me like a hammer blow. So blindingly obvious that I haven't seen it. It's me! Duh!

I grab his hand and pull him in close. I can tell he wasn't expecting it, there's a little 'huff' of surprise. But he doesn't resist, and settles into my chest.

"Get out of my head Piers, and into my arms! I don't know what it is, but I need that one thing, and you've got it." There, my little speech, over in a couple of seconds. He doesn't answer for a moment, and my heart freezes. Then he answers with just one word, but it's one word that tells me everything. For the first time in two years, he uses my real name.

"Chris."

And as we hug on the street, outside the little bookshop, I close my sad eyes for the last time, knowing that when I open them again, they'll be happy, just like his. Cos I've finally got that one thing. And he's perfect!

**And now, from Piers' point of view:**

I can feel the short hairs on the back of my neck standing up. He's staring at me. Again! He always does. Who? Who do you think? Him. The only man in the world that matters to me. My Captain. Chris Redfield. Two years I've known him, and yet I barely know his name. It still sounds unfamiliar to me when I say it, even now. He's always been 'Captain'. My Captain.

He hasn't said anything of course. He rarely does. Taciturn doesn't quite capture his monumental silences. They're deafening. I wish . . . I wish sometimes he'd just let go. But he never does. At least not like I wish he would. It's gone way beyond irritating.

I turn around abruptly and catch him still looking. That strange, sad look he always has. He does the usual thing. That quiet 'harrumph' noise he makes when he's been caught out. Then he blushes, looks down at his desk, and shuffles some papers. He'll probably give me some of them later, to finish for him. Sometimes we'll work through on them into the night. He hates paperwork. It's driving me crazy, doesn't he see that? Sorry, not the paperwork. I mean us, our relationship. Or rather, our non-relationship. He's the senior officer, the legend. I can't initiate it. It has to come from him. But it never does. My sad, lonely, blushing hero.

It's the Major. It has to be. He and Jill Valentine were partners for so long. I was a fool to think I could just pitch up on day one and win his heart. Just a stupid crush on my part. It went to my head. Recruited by the legendary Captain Redfield. To be his right-hand on the equally legendary Alpha Team. I remember that first day of my trial on the rifle range. I wasn't sure how I'd done, but when the Captain gave the Major a 'thumbs up' I felt so relieved. They had such an easy relationship, laughing, joking together. He was happy back then. The last two years have ground him down. Pushed him further out of my reach, not closer. Now they're grinding me down as well.

We do meet, of course. Occasionally, outside of the base. A bookshop in town I know. But he usually just sits and listens. I get nervous and I talk too much I suppose. Filling in for his silences. I think he enjoys it, it's hard to tell. To tell the truth I'm not sure how much more I can take. Two years of having him in my head, when all I want is to have him in my arms.

I come back from lunch. He's left more paperwork on my desk, and a note. It probably says something like 'Please finish these - - C.' I don't know what the C stands for. It could be Captain or it could be Chris. At first, I try and ignore it. But it's from him, and I can't ignore it. It's not just about duty. It's about hope. I can't ignore anything concerning my Captain. So I pick it up and read it.

_To Piers_

_See you at the same place - - Chris_

For a moment I'm stunned. Shit! _He_ wants to meet? But he's never . . . never, ever . . . Shit! And he's already left. How long? I quickly check my watch. Oh shit! I grab my jacket and run. I'm coming Chris . . . Shiiit!

Thank God! He's still there, standing disconsolately next to a bus-stop. I smile, as much in relief as in recognition.

"Hello, Captain!"

At least, that's what I thought I called out. Later, he says I said 'Chris', loads of times. It doesn't matter. He says he said 'Piers' once. I heard it at least a dozen. That doesn't matter either. And then again, perhaps those little details are the things that really matter the most He pulled me in, mumbling something about not knowing what it was, but he needed one thing and I had it. The most emotional speech I'd ever heard him make, and one of the longest! We melted into each other's embrace. At last! Out of my head and into my arms. Shit! I thought this day would never come!

It's all been a blur since then. One minute he was in my mind and the next he was in my life. Where he's always belonged. And I'm in his, to stay and fix-up my sad, lonely hero. To put the smile back on his face, and bring the life and laughter back into his eyes.

I have to admit, for a man who doesn't like admin, Chris organized our wedding in next to no time. Though I suspect the Major had something to do with it. And Jill was our 'Best Women.' But she wasn't exactly going to praise us, even on our wedding day.

"What took you so long? I was begging to think you two would never get together. Men, ugh!" then she giggled as she opened the ring box. After we'd exchanged our vows, we exchanged our rings.

He put his ring on my finger first and laughed. "I don't know what it is, but I need that one ring."

As I placed my ring on his finger, I laughed back. "And now you've got that one ring."

We smiled and then we kissed. We were both so happy. "I know pronounce you Mr and Mr Nivanfield." said the preacher. Oh? Didn't I tell you? We changed our names! He, he!

Later, after the reception, we walked hand-in-hand together, along the beach. Two white suits, two rings, one name, one heart.

I wasn't sure about the white suits to be honest, but Major Valentine had been. So end of discussion!

I grasped his hand. "Um, how do I look? And don't say the 'P' word!"

"Piers?"

"No! Perfect! You must have said it at least a hundred times today."

"Ha! In that case you look 'picture Piers' then. And me?"

"You scrub up well."

"Gee, thanks! Remind me, why did I marry you Piers Nivanfield?"

"Cos I've got that one thing you want Christopher Nivanfield."

"What's that? Lots of money?"

"Nah."

"A fast car then?"

"Hmm, it's not that fast."

"Guess I'll just have to settle for perfection then. I _know_ you've got plenty of that!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again Rolyn for allowing me to write and post this. :)) nimrod. XX


End file.
